


Enemies

by that_possum_guy



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Centaurs, Gen, Original Character(s), a lot of speculation on Narnian-Telmarine history, mentions of killing, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28949793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_possum_guy/pseuds/that_possum_guy
Summary: One morning, a centaur watches some Telmarines just across the border from her territory.She is not happy about this. They are the enemy.Aren't they?And what will she do when one of them ends up in danger?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Enemies

Windfire snorted and pushed a branch out of her line of sight.

They had cut down yet more trees on the other side of the river. Where the woods had once stood lush and thick, a wasteland now lay, littered with stumps.

She crossed her arms and scratched the ground with her back hoof. Monsters, all of them. If they were given the chance, they would take the rest of the woods by the water, too. That was just how they were. Telmarines. Insatiable.

She watched their little gathering warily.

A group of them was readying the last of the logs to be transported away, while two men simply stood there, talking, one in much finer clothing than the other. The leader, presumably. He had a woman at his arm, and two children, a boy and girl, were chasing each other around the stumps.

Windfire grimaced. Bringing their young along as if this was some fun family outing! She stomped her hoof. Did they not realize they were standing amid ruins?

She had half a mind to shoot them now, from her spot between the trees, and spare herself the waiting. But no. They hadn't crossed the river. She took a deep breath.

The river was the border. Much as she hated it, the land on its other side was Telmarine territory. As long as they stayed there, they would be safe from her and her people.

There were too many to take out unnoticed, anyway. If she attacked them, she would either give away her hiding spot now, or draw unwanted attention to her woods later, when others of their ilk found the bodies. She would not be able to hide them, for she would not break the unwritten laws by crossing the river, either. And even if she could, the disappearance of so many and the blood they'd leave behind would be suspicious, also.

Windfire shook her mane. It was easier to leave them be on their side, and only take them out if they got too close.

Besides, what would she do about the children? She could not shoot them. And she had no desire to slaughter their parents in front of their eyes. She was not a Telmarine, after all.

Windfire sighed and turned her ears towards the talking men, wondering what they were discussing. They were too far away to hear. This disappointed her. It would have been good to know what they were saying. She had a suspicion she'd have liked to confirm or deny.

These days, one of the biggest fears of her people was a bridge: the Telmarines encroaching further on their sanctuary, which had been shrinking consistently over the last few decades.

In the open war between them, fought by their ancestors roughly two and a half centuries ago, they'd wrestled a stalemate from their enemy by retreating deep into the woods and decimating their foe whenever he tried to follow. In the forest, their knowledge of the terrain gave them the advantage. In open-field combat, they did not stand a chance against the Telmarines' superior numbers and war machines. Victory was out of the question for her people, but they'd fought tooth and claw to at least keep their lives.

Eventually, their enemy had drawn back to lick his wounds, considering the losses they inflicted on him too great, and contenting himself with the land he'd already seized.

The Telmarines had not returned to the woods for a long time after that. Windfire guessed they'd underestimated her people's number and tenacity, believing that with time they would die out on their own. She could not imagine their enemy would have left them alone had he still seen in them any potential for a threat.

But her people had not died out. They'd held on, living and passing on their stories in hiding. Stories about their history, including the one of this very war.

The Telmarines were not as good at passing on their history. Their descendants eventually stopped believing in Windfire's people. Too fantastical and strange did they sound, too rarely were they glimpsed by living eyes. Stories about them got written off as fairytales, a development they very much welcomed.

No one would attack an enemy they did not know exists.

The Telmarines' fear of the woods, however, stayed. Even if they could no longer explain why, they rarely dared venture between the trees. And whenever one of them did, Windfire's people ensured that no one who layed eyes on them would get to tell the tale, and that the woods remained in the enemies' collective conscience as a place to be feared.

But lately the Telmarines had gotten bolder. They entered the woods so rarely that any deaths there were starting to be regarded as accidents instead of as warnings. They weren't keeping their distance as they used to.

And they were greedy. They wanted more land. More, always more.

They'd begun coming in bigger numbers, felling the trees at the edges first without going too deeply into the woods, until there were no more woods. Windfire's herd and family had been greeting refugees from these devastated areas for years now. The river was the latest border they were holding.

But if the Telmarines got it into their heads to build a bridge...

Windfire gave a keening sigh. She was beginning to fear they would cut down the entire forest, with no regard for if her people were still in it or not.

She would be keeping a close eye on this spot.

Just then, the little girl stumbled and fell nearly flat on her face. For a moment she lay there, silent. Then she broke into tears.

Windfire felt a twinge of sympathy and quickly tried to shake it off. The child was a Telmarine, the very reason she might soon be losing her home! Why should she pity her?

The boy knelt down and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, then turned to the woman - their mother, presumably.

Windfire watched with trepidation, wanting to see her reaction. How did they treat their children? Harshly, like the monsters they were?

But no. The woman immediately hurried over - leaving the side of her husband, who glanced at his offspring, but did not move - and knelt in the dirt in front of her little girl.

She got her to her feet and seemed to check her over for injuries. She said something Windfire could not make out, and the girl nodded. Her mother kissed her and wiped her tears away.

Then she stood up and lifted her daughter, balancing her on one hip. The boy held on to his mother's skirts. She put a hand on his head, and together they returned to the man.

Windfire cocked her head. She was confused, as anyone was when faced with evidence that even monsters love their families.

She studied them closely, trying to get the picture presenting itself to her to make sense. How could they stand in the midst of a ruin acting like nothing was wrong at all? Like they hadn't just committed a heinous crime? Why would they bring their children there?

Windfire blinked. She did not often see Telmarine children. Their parents did not usually bring them this close to the woods. Thinking about it, this was probably the closest she'd ever gotten to some.

She took a closer look at them. The girl was still in the woman's arms. She had stopped crying, but was snuggling into her mother's neck and seemed uninterested in coming down from there. The boy, who had stayed by their side so far, appeared bored by this and wandered off to play again. Windfire's gaze followed him.

He wore his people's characteristic blue clothes, and had their typical dark and curly hair. Clearly a Telmarine. Yet he was so small, and looked so harmless. Cute, almost.

But one day soon he would be grown, and be her enemy. He would cut down her woods and slaughter her people if given the chance, like his fathers before him.

As if to emphasize her thoughts, he picked up a stick from the mud and swung it like a sword.

Windfire snorted, but with little conviction. What she saw had made her pensive.

He was not her enemy now. He knew little of the world and its wars.

War... What her people had with the Telmarines now could hardly be called a war. There were no battles, only hiding on their part and at most short skirmishes if an enemy ever set foot on their turf.

Windfire had long lamented the Telmarines' propensity to forget and stop believing in what they did not see. She'd thought that if their enemy were outright challenging them, at least they'd get to die in combat with dignity, instead of slowly wasting away because their land was being taken from them until they simply had nowhere left to go.

But of course...

Somehow, the playing boy across the river made it clear to her. The Telmarines did not know what they were doing was stealing. They didn't know the woods belonged to anyone, that they were someone's home, someone's life. Her people had made sure they forgot that.

Windfire pawed at the ground nervously. She did not know what to do with this revelation.

Going up to and talking to them was certainly not an option. After all, this knowledge had not stopped them the first time around. And for all their ignorance about their current crime, Telmarines were known for their cruelty and bloodlust. When they'd first come to Narnia, they'd immediately started slaughtering her people on sight, with no provocation. There were even stories that they'd killed their own compatriots who had gotten in the way!

...But that meant someone _had_ gotten in the way.

She stared at the family on the other shore, not so different suddenly from her own herd.

Maybe it wasn't like the stories made it sound. Maybe the invaders back then hadn't killed their own in simple, blind rage. Maybe there had been those among them even then who recognized that her people weren't wild beasts, and that they should not be murdered and mistreated the way they were. Maybe they got between weapon and victim on purpose.

Of course, that they still got killed with no hesitation didn't bode well now. But nonetheless...

Windfire looked at the men across the river, each in turn. Maybe there were those among them who would be willing to listen. Maybe there was hope after all.

What happened next transpired very quickly. In hindsight, Windfire was no longer surprised that she had been the only one to notice it. But in the moment, it felt unmissable.

The boy had gotten closer to the river in his playing. He was crouching by the water and reaching for it with his stick.

Then, the bank gave way under him.  
Windfire felt both her hearts drop.

He fell in without so much as a scream, and barely a splash, for he was so small.

Only when he surfaced again did Windfire resume breathing. Then she began to run.

The last months had been dry ones, so the river was not as deep or as strong as it could have been. But it was still a river.

The current was strong, and it carried the boy away quickly. Having to dart through the trees, Windfire nearly had trouble keeping up with him.

He was keeping his head above water, but it clearly cost him all his strength. There was no thinking about making it back to shore.

Windfire scanned the other bank. The river had brought them to an area where there was still wood on both sides.

She was afraid to slow down to get a better look, but it appeared the boy's people were not following them. Windfire wondered for a moment if they even could have. They did not possess a centaur's speed.

The boy was fighting harder now. Waves washed over him more often, and each time it seemed to take him longer to reappear above water.

The river was getting wider. Windfire had hoped it would also grow slower, and allow the boy to reach the shore. But it was becoming clear now that he would not make it on his own.

For a moment, Windfire could hardly breathe herself. Then, her face took on a determined expression. She left the cover of the trees and picked up speed, running ahead of the boy instead of merely along with him. When she'd brought about twice her length's distance between them, she took a sharp turn and leapt.

She crashed into the river with a huge splash after making it almost halfway across.

The water completely covered her back, but her hooves still reached the ground. Yet the force of the river nearly threw her over. She fought for a moment to keep her footing, then to move forward perpendicular to the current.

The boy was being carried towards her now, but there was still the chance she might miss him.

He was clearly tired, struggling to keep his eyes open and keep moving. When he was nearly by her, he went completely under.

Windfire reached into the water.

The moment she grabbed hold of the back of his shirt, she lost the ground under her front hooves.

She pulled him up even as she fell, holding him above the water and beginning to swim.

The moment his head breached the surface, he started coughing violently.

Good. That meant he had life in him yet.

Windfire held him to her chest, kicking only her legs to make it to the other side, and eventually pushing herself up the bank there.

She immediately fell to her knees and set the boy down.

His body was still being wrecked by coughs. He turned to the side and spew out a gush of water; then he collapsed.

Windfire could tell he wasn't dead only because he was shaking all over, and breathing rapidly. She was not a healer, and had no idea what to do in such a situation. Even though she did not consider herself a great believer, now she prayed all he needed was rest.

She put a hand on him, he tensed - then relaxed, seemingly calmed somewhat. His breaths came slower.

Windfire sighed. “Now what do I do with you, little one?”

Where could she take him?

Could she return him to his parents? Scoop him up, walk upriver and simply hand him back? How would they react?

She let out a slow breath. How would she react? If a Telmarine came into her woods holding a half-drowned Narnian child in his arms, claiming he saved him? Would she believe him? Would she even let him explain? Or would she assume he was bringing them their dead child as a threat, and kill him, as she always killed an enemy who got too close?

The boy would be back with his family. But was that worth her life? Windfire shuddered.

And her people's lives, also. They'd hidden well so far. But if she walked out there and got killed, the Telmarines would be certain of their existence again. They'd have her body as proof. Or eyewitness accounts, even if they let her go.

Could she trade her people's entire existence for this boy's life? She rubbed her palms across her eyes.

And if she took him to her own people? He would likely receive help there. She could not imagine them refusing aid to a child. But what would happen then? He was still a Telmarine, however young. She knew there were those among the Narnians who would advocate for his death. Then it would have all been in vain.

Windfire balled her fists. No. She would not allow them to kill him!

But what then? She was already unsure if she could return him to his own now. Once he'd been in the woods, there'd be no going back. So what would happen to him?  
Could he live with them? With a people his own had spent years killing, where surely at least half of them hated him, forever separated from his blood family?

She shook her head. That was no life. But what could she do?

She stroked a hand through his hair and sighed. Maybe she could take him back to his parents without being seen...

Suddenly, the boy stirred. He slowly lifted his head, blinking, his gaze wandering up and up her torso, until it settled on her face, and Windfire found a pair of deep, dark brown eyes staring back at her. For a breath, neither of them found themselves able to look away.

Then...

“GLOZELLE!!!”

Windfire's ears shot up. The shout had come from upriver. She jumped to her hooves and lunged between the trees, over a thicket, behind which she crouched low.

The boy looked after her for a moment, then staggered to his feet, turning towards the voice. “Ma-” He broke off in a coughing fit, then tried again: “MAMA!”

“GLOZELLE!” An instant later, the woman came running around the bend, the man following on her heels, carrying the girl.

The boy held his arms out, and the woman immediately fell to her knees, hugged him tight and peppered him with kisses. She was crying. Soon they were both crying, and the girl was sniffling, too. Her father gently rocked her.

When the woman had calmed down somewhat, she gently took her sons face in her hands. “Oh, Glozelito, are you alright? What happened to you?”

“I fell in the river”, he rasped, though Windfire thought it must have been obvious; he was sopping wet.

His mother gasped and hugged him again, while his father near-yelled: “You did WHAT? How often have we told you not to go into the water?”

“'t wasn't on purpose”, he mumbled even as tears welled up again, and his mother turned to glare at her husband.

“Scythley!”, she chided. “Now is not the time!”

He sighed and nodded. “I know. I'm sorry, love.”

He knelt down and let his daughter walk to her mother, who took her into her arms.

The man held his arms out, and the boy stumbled over and hugged him tightly. His father patted his back. “I'm sorry, son. I was worried.” He took him by the shoulders. “We could have lost you. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded through his tears.

“Promise you'll never do something like that again.”

“I promise.” He sniffled.

“Good.” His father gave him a kiss on the top of his head. “Now, let's get you home.”

He took his cloak off and wrapped the boy in it. As he picked him up, he said: “The river is dangerous. We're lucky you made it back out on your own.”

“I didn't”, the boy replied.

Windfire's hearts skipped a beat.

His parents frowned at each other.

“What?”, asked his father.

“A lady saved me!”, the boy explained, voice still rough, but excited.

“A lady?”, repeated his mother, surprised. “Where is she? We must thank her!” She looked around.

Windfire ducked lower.

“She had horse legs!”, the boy added brightly.

Both of Windfire's hearts were hammering inside her, and she fought the instinct to immediately run away.

“Horse... legs?” The woman looked at her son incredulously. “You mean she had a horse?”

“No!” The boy shook his head. “She was a lady, but where her legs would be she was a horse. With four horse legs.”

The woman stared at him. “Glozelle, it sounds like you're describing-”

“Absolute nonsense”, her husband interrupted her. “You must have imagined that.”

“No, I didn't!” Another cough surged through him.

“A woman with the legs of a horse?” The man laughed. “There's no such thing.”

“But-”

“Shush! No more of this. You need rest. You're speaking in a fever.”

The boy sighed. “Yes, papá.”

His father gave him one more kiss, then looked at his wife, and they began the walk back home.

Over his father's shoulder, the boy kept scanning the woods until they were out of sight.

Even after they were gone, Windfire stayed in her hiding spot.

He had told them about her. They had not believed him. Good. Good.

She hoped they would not come back to look for her.

She stared at the corner where they'd disappeared, and sighed.

She was glad he was with his family again. But she also wondered.

Would he remember her? He was so young. She had a hard time estimating humans' ages. Was he too young still to form lasting memories?

And even if he was old enough, in her experience humans were always quick to forget what was out of their sight, especially strange things.

His father would keep telling him he'd imagined this - she took him for that sort of man.

She walked out of the trees and looked at the ground. Good thing he hadn't deigned to take a closer look, or he'd have noticed the hoof prints. Just to be safe, she erased her tracks.

Then she looked upriver again, pondering. Maybe he would forget about her, and go through life believing he'd reached the shore on his own.

But maybe... Maybe he would recall her. Maybe he'd remember that once, when he'd needed to be saved, a Narnian had done so. Maybe he'd look on her people with kindness. And maybe, if there ever came a time for peace between them, he could help.

Windfire flicked her ears once more, and waded into the river to swim back across and go home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you liked this story, please let me know!


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